Despite the grumbling, the crowd still raised their voices in support. This was still Fengyue's arena. Pride demanded they cheer.
Meanwhile, Li Wujie had already stood up, shoulders squared.
He was about to leap when a hand settled lightly but firmly on his shoulder.
He turned to see Ryan, who gave him a small, almost gentle smile.
"Brother Wei?" Li Wujie blinked.
Ryan leaned in, voice so low only Li Wujie could hear it. "Don't clash head-on. Don't try to meet force with force."
He paused.
"Move. Keep moving. Lure him. Tire him. Make him chase."
Li Wujie stared for half a breath.
Then he nodded once—sharp, decisive without asking any question.
"Understood."
With a powerful kick against the ground, Li Wujie vaulted onto the ring. He landed lightly, knees bending to absorb the impact, then straightened and faced his opponent.
Fang Tian watched him approach with the same bored sneer.
